


Fire In The Sky

by HyperKid



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caleb Widogast/love and affection, Dreams of Fire, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’m not late you’re late, Other, Panic Attack, Widomauk Week 2019, fire resistant tiefling, prompt: nightmares, yeet the tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid
Summary: Sometimes when he dreams, Caleb dreams if fire. Luckily Mollymauk is fire resistant.





	Fire In The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Technically I’m early with this one.   
> Mollymauk: I think we count from when you finish the thing, not when you started it.   
> HK: Can you prove that?   
> Mollymauk: Probably not specifically. Not that I’m trying.   
> HK: Exactly. Any time is a good time for fluff.   
> Mollymauk: You misspelled “every” time.   
> HK: Dammit; you’re right! 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Caleb Widogast is an angsty angsty boy who needs all of the love 
> 
> Disclaimer: I bet there’s a fic critical mass after which I own Critical Role. I wonder what it is.

Sometimes when Caleb dreams, he dreams of fire. Sometimes the spell falls from his lips, tortured syllables and muttered enchantments spilling sparks from his fingers. Sometimes, when it’s been dry for a while, the fire catches. 

 

He’s been lucky, so far. Using his silver thread, bleeding his magic off little by little over the day, working himself to exhaustion before trying to sleep. Having Nott with him helps. Another body tucked up to his own who can give him a kick when the tossing of the fire dreams starts. A weight against his side to remind him he’s not alone. 

 

He still has nightmares, sometimes, but they don’t all burn. He’ll take the cold sweats, and jerking awake with a scream on his lips, and long hours lying awake waiting for dawn. Those are fine. The others will not judge him for those. Couldn’t, when Fjord has woken up spewing salt water. When Yasha’s kicked awake, panting like she’s in battle. When Molly’s caught his eye across the fire, empty and hollow and bone deep weary but not looking for sleep. 

 

No, they all have their own demons in the dark, and they know not to ask. But it’s the fire dreams that Caleb loathes. They can’t just ignore something that will hurt them. 

 

** 

 

There’s nothing else particularly special about that night. They hadn’t been in a fight that day, and Caleb has burned nothing but a little wood in the campfire. No dissociation, no echoing screams. Just a normal day. 

 

He might have let himself get too happy. 

 

He knows when the dream starts what it’s going to be. Knows the house he stands in front of. Knows the wagon pressed against the door. 

 

He tries his best to wake up, to jerk himself out of it. But even in his dream body he can do nothing but walk purposefully to the door, flames growing hot in his hands. 

 

Please, he thinks as the screams begin, please let this be just one more night of torment. Let it be his own prison, in his head where he can pay for his mistakes. Let it stay locked inside. 

 

No one else, not even Nott, has seen the fire dreams. He can’t imagine how to explain it. 

 

** 

 

Jester and Molly are sitting watch when the nightmare begins, cheerfully flirting over the fire. Jester turns when Caleb jerks, but Molly easily recaptures her attention. 

 

Their sweet cleric may be a reluctant healer, but she’s not good at seeing her friends in pain. 

 

Molly knows the screaming nightmares, knows that an audience is the last thing Caleb needs. So he keeps her distracted with stories about the circus, and meeting Yasha, and reading fortunes. 

 

Right up until fire flares across the campfire, spreading across dry grass and dead leaves. Both tieflings leap up, swearing loudly enough to wake Beau, the nearest to them. The monk scrambles to her feet with more yelling, and soon all the Nein are up. 

 

All but one. 

 

Caleb is still twisting within a circle of flame, magic pouring from his fingertips. 

 

The campsite dissolves into panic quickly, Fjord and Molly kicking dirt on the flames to try and stop their spread while Jester and Yasha haul a barrel of water from the cart. Beau and Nott know at least in general shape what Caleb must be dreaming of. He’s crying out now, calling in Zemnian. 

 

Beau’s hand finds Nott’s shoulder, white knuckles the only sign of her own concern. 

 

“We gotta wake him up,” she hisses, eyes squinted against the flames to try and pick out Caleb’s shape. Nott wrings her fingers, frowning at the fire. 

 

“How? If he could hear us he’d be up by now.” 

 

“You could shoot him?” Beau regrets the suggestion at about the time it leaves her mouth, but Nott actually considers it. Brings home the seriousness of the situation. 

 

Jester and Yasha have the water barrel open, dousing the ground around Caleb to stop the flames from spreading. The fire itself, fed by magic, sputters under the onslaught of water but burns on. Yasha goes for another barrel but Molly stops her, tossing his coat into her hands. 

 

“Enough, it’s clearly not working. I’ll go wake him up.” 

 

“But Molly, he can’t hear you,” Jester calls, her hands drumming anxiously on the empty barrel. The fire is contained, but only for so long. Molly gives her his best reassuring grin as he ties back his hair. 

 

“He doesn’t need to hear me, love. I’m fire resistant. I can get through to him.” It takes a moment for the meaning of those words to sink in, worry seeping through the group as each took a moment to look into the inferno. 

 

Then Yasha steps forward, steely determination in her eyes. 

 

“I can toss you through the worst of it,” she volunteers, and Beau spares just an instant from her worry for a little sigh. But Caleb is in trouble, and this is not the time to swoon. Molly just nods, all business as he steps up to Yasha. 

 

The barbarian sinks to proffer a knee, both hands making a cup on its surface. Molly is about to step into it when Jester hurries forward, knocking the barrel over in her haste. 

 

“I can help!” She needs to be doing something, anything, it’s clear on her face. Molly considers it for a moment then shakes his head, cupping her cheek briefly. 

 

“You get some healing spells ready. He might be burned. Yasha and I have done this before.” 

 

Jester isn’t happy, it’s plain in her face, but she steps back anyway and clutches her symbol of the Traveler. Yasha nods to Molly and he steps one foot into her hand, a falsely bright smile glowing orange in the firelight. 

 

“On three?” He asks, and she nods again. 

 

“One. Two. Three.” 

 

Molly pushes off from the ground and Yasha takes his full weight for an instant without effort, tossing him easily across the wall of flames. Molly’s back arches, turning the throw into an elegant flip and skidding a little as he lands at Caleb’s feet. His tail skims through the flames and he moves quickly, embers smouldering in his clothes. 

 

There isn’t a lot of bare ground to stand on between Caleb and the flames. Caleb’s coat is already beginning to smoke and Molly smothers it with his bare hands before kneeling astride Caleb’s hips. It’s about the only place where he isn’t burning, and for a second Molly worries about Frumpkin. Fey familiars can take care of themselves, he decides, and reaches down to catch Caleb’s still burning hands in his. 

 

The flames still drop from them, sparks brushing Molly’s purple skin without leaving more than a light kiss of warmth. Molly’s never been happier to be fire resistant than he is now. 

 

“Caleb,” he calls, using his weight to pin the tossing wizard down. Caleb’s face is twisted in something like fear, something like agony, and it hurts to see. He’s trapped in nightmares. 

 

Molly hesitates for a moment, considering the best way to wake the human. Caleb wakes sharply at the best of times, and it’s not unknown for him to cast fire bolt if he’s startled awake on a bad night. Figuring that it can’t be much worse than what is already happening, Molly takes him by the shoulders and gives him a firm shake. 

 

“Hey! Wake up!” 

 

Fire pours from Caleb’s hands as the wizard flops in Molly’s grip, still trapped in nightmares. 

 

“Hey! Molly!” 

 

The tiefling looks up just in time to catch Beau’s water skin before it hits him in the face. His boots are beginning to smoulder and he can feel the heat closing in, warm enough that he knows eventually it will burn even him. He doesn’t bother questioning Beau, just dumps out the water onto Caleb’s head. 

 

The wizard jolts upright quickly enough that Molly has to drop back to avoid being head butted. Flaming hands catch Molly by the elbows and Caleb’s wild eyes are maybe an inch from his own. The human’s gaze is unfocused, reality slowly seeping back in as he tracks over Molly’s face. His breathing is ragged, panicked, fear still written across his face. 

 

Molly leans in to press his forehead to Caleb’s, cupping the wizard’s face between his hands. 

 

“Deep breaths, love. With me.” He draws in a deep breath, maintaining eye contact until Caleb follows, holds it, breathes out. Caleb mimics him almost automatically, the flames growing smaller and smaller as his breathing calms. 

 

After a few minutes, the fire has gone out, leaving the camp in relative darkness. The rest of the Nein don’t approach. Not yet. That will depend on what comes next. 

 

One of Caleb’s hands rises slowly to close around Molly’s wrist. 

 

“Mollymauk?” He whispers almost for confirmation. Molly grins, relief coursing through him. 

 

“Hello,” he replies softly, watching his wizard’s eyes focus on him. “Better?” 

 

Caleb draws in another breath, brow furrowing when it still tastes of smoke and ash. 

 

“Better... what...” his gaze drifts past Molly for the first time, to the ring of black char around them. He knows right away what must have happened. Knows why Molly is basically sat in his lap. 

 

He’s about to draw away when panic hits him and he clutches at Molly’s arms, trying and failing to push both sleeves up out of the way. Molly pulls back a little, cups Caleb’s cheeks again. 

 

“Hey hey, what are you doing there love?” 

 

The word hits like a physical blow and Caleb’s whole body recoils, hands falling limply to his sides. He can’t even look at Molly any more, but can’t look away either. Searching for the burns he knows he must have left. 

 

“I... I did not mean...” he forces himself to stop, swallowing hollow words. What he _means_ has never mattered. Instead he forces out a whisper, “I am sorry.” Three words. Enough meaning, regret, wants, to choke him. 

 

Molly frowns, confused and worried now. Something must be setting Caleb off. But until he knows what it is, he can’t even stop. 

 

“Sorry for what, Caleb?” No endearments this time, not after the last. It’s a challenge to catch the wizard’s eye this time. He isn’t sure Caleb is quite hearing him. 

 

The clearing is silent for a long moment, their audience hardly even daring to breathe. Caleb seems to be struggling, searching for words he can’t make out. In the end he gives up, gesturing helplessly at the ring of destruction around them. 

 

“The fire... I... I lost control. I must have hurt you...” He sounds so lost, so helpless, so empty that it takes a physical effort for Molly not to gather him into his arms. 

 

He can see the effect on their companions too, from the corner of his eye. Hidden in the darkness where human eyes can’t make out, Jester has taken Nott’s shoulders, both girls trembling. It has to hurt to be so far away. 

 

Molly feels far away, sat right in his wizard’s lap. 

 

At least he can set some fears to rest. 

 

Mollymauk forces a smile, ducking his head until Caleb can’t help but look at him. 

 

“Hey. You didn’t hurt me, Caleb. I’m fine.” 

 

The look he receives is disbelieving past the point of insult. Not important. He tugs his sleeves up of his own accord, turning his arms to show Caleb the smooth purple skin. 

 

“Not a mark on me. You can check the rest as well if you like,” he adds flirtatiously, tipping a very obvious wink. Tension hangs heavier in the air than the smoke, which has finally begun to clear. 

 

Caleb doesn’t even seem to notice, reaching out a hand gingerly as though afraid his touch will cause Molly pain. Not entirely without reason. 

 

“You.... what?” The human asks slowly, not quite able to wrap his head around the idea. That Molly could get so close to him without harm, when the scars of what he’s done cover the whole campsite... 

 

Molly presses an arm into Caleb’s shaking hands. 

 

“I’m fire resistant, Caleb. You didn’t hurt me.” 

 

Caleb’s touch is hesitant at first, then firmer, smoothing over undamaged skin. Almost like he can’t quite believe it. He just stares at the smooth, colourful lines of tattoos. 

 

Abruptly everything seems to come home at once. His hands begin to shake, gripping Molly’s arms as tears well in his eyes. Molly hushes him gently, curling his tail around Caleb’s waist and pressing their foreheads together. 

 

“I’m alright, Caleb. We’re all alright, including you. Promise.” He catches Caleb’s eye again, not letting him look away this time, just staring into deep blue. “What do you need?” 

 

The wizard flinches almost violently at the reminder of the others, knuckles white around Molly’s arms. He shakes his head, words failing him. Molly understands anyway, humming softly and giving Caleb a gentle nudge. 

 

“Hey. Don’t worry about that. You just look at me, okay? And Jester can bring you a blanket.” He doesn’t look away or break eye contact, but he can hear the other tiefling scrambling to obey. Having something to do would be good for all of them. 

 

A moment later, a thick woollen blanket is draped around Caleb’s shoulders and Molly tucks it a little more tightly around him. Frumpkin’s back, pooling himself into the wizard’s lap and scaling the blanket to drape himself like a scarf around Caleb’s neck. Caleb’s grip doesn’t lessen but he doesn’t try and hold Molly still, just clutching his arms as he moves. Molly gives him a soothing smile. 

 

“A bit better?” 

 

Lost somewhere between self loathing and shock, Caleb manages a tight nod. The blanket closes him in, drawing a line between where Caleb ends and the world begins. It’s better than being scattered through the stars. But he doesn’t want to be Caleb Widogast. 

 

Molly presses their foreheads together again, still smiling. 

 

“It’s just you and me here. Nothing else matters, yeah?” 

 

Caleb nods again, skin brushing over Molly’s and moving his head a little but Molly moves with him. A ghost of a smile tickles the corner of his mouth. The tiefling is ridiculous. 

 

Molly grins wider seeing the smile, turning his hands to take hold of Caleb’s wrists in return. 

 

“I’ve got you. You know that, yeah?” 

 

Around them, Caleb can hear the others getting back to work, setting their campsites to rights, getting back to bed. He nods slowly because he can tell Molly wants him to, leaning into his touch. 

 

Jester’s still hovering, on hold, fingers glowing faintly where they clasp her symbol. It’s a reminder to Molly, who turns Caleb’s hands over slowly in his grasp. 

 

“Are you hurt at all?” 

 

As expected the wizard flinches again, concern rubbing salt in a raw wound, but there’s no point being delicate. They have to know. It’s almost impossible to imagine that fire could have grown so wild without leaving some wounds. 

 

Caleb doesn’t bother to look down at himself before shaking his head, drawing back from Molly for the first time to wrap his arms around himself. Molly frowns, moves to follow him, and is cut off by two curt words. 

 

“I’m fine.” 

 

It draws the tiefling’s brows lower, fully aware it’s a dismissal, not an actual assessment. He cups Caleb’s chin gently, careful with the press of his clawed nails. 

 

“You were so worried that you’d hurt me. Can you not see why I’m worried for you?” 

 

Another flinch, still not a surprise, but Caleb lets Molly take his hands. 

 

“I don’t...” the wizard pauses, closes his eyes, draws in a breath, “the flames don’t hurt me, Mollymauk. Not anymore.” Not even if he’d want them to. Not even if he’d prefer it. 

 

Molly gives in to impulse for a moment to scoop Caleb into his chest once more. 

 

“Jester’s got a healing spell ready anyway, if you think it’ll help. Might as well not go to waste?” It’s a gentle offer, but Caleb shakes his head anyway. 

 

“Use it on Molly,” he says a little louder, not sure where Jester is and not wanting to look. Molly glances up, catches her eye, shrugs. He doubts there’s much for it to heal but they don’t have the next few years to break down Caleb’s self deprecation. 

 

The other tiefling still looks more worried than reassured but she steps forward, rests a hand on Molly’s arm, releases the spell and steps away again. Molly feels a faint buzz of warmth, a mild ache in his knee fading away to nothing. Not a whole lot, but not a totally wasted spell either. 

 

Jester’s eyes are still on Caleb as she heads back to the fire, her brows wrinkled with worry, but she sits with her back to them for the sake of their privacy. Continuing her watch. Molly can’t help being a little grateful; no chance he could have kept calming Caleb and kept an eye on their surroundings. 

 

Caleb wants to pat him down for injuries again, it’s clear in the faint twitches of his hands, but he also doesn’t want to move. Molly’s warmth is acting as a balm for tense muscles and weary minds. He can’t bring himself to move away. 

 

Until he realises he’s being soothed back to sleep. 

 

The wizard jerks up, knuckles white as he grips Molly’s arms. Molly jumps too, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out what’s wrong. 

 

“You don’t have to sleep, Caleb. We can take the last watch if you want to stay up.” Not that he thinks Caleb would be up to much actual watching. Even the normally attentive wizard has his limits. Caleb probably knows it himself, but he nods anyway. 

 

“We could wake Nott?” He offers quietly, glancing back towards Jester and the fire. “I don’t want to keep you up.” 

 

For a moment Molly wonders if Caleb’s trying to get rid of him, but even though his grip’s relaxed his human still hasn’t let go of his arms. He’s probably just worrying again, convincing himself he’s a burden on the group. 

 

Molly presses a kiss to his temple. 

 

“We can let Jester get some sleep, but I’m fine to make it through the night. Unless you’d rather be alone?” 

 

Caleb’s grip tightens for a moment before he calms himself, eyes closing. It takes a few deep breaths before he’s worked out his answer, and the smile he gives Molly is still strained when he opens his eyes. 

 

“I’m afraid if I’m alone I will start thinking again.” 

 

Nothing more need be said. Molly cuddles him up immediately, arms and tail wrapping tightly around his wizard to protect him from his own thoughts. 

 

“Shall I tell you some circus stories?” He asks softly, pressing his cheek to Caleb’s temple. It means some of his horn charms dangle in his human’s hair, but that’s alright. Caleb’s not about to try and move to get caught anyway. 

 

“I would like that, yes,” he admits with a soft sigh. “But none about fire.” 

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Look at me being all productive for Widomauk week. I’m so proud of me. Now if only there was a dent in the WIP pile...


End file.
